


Meoto Yunomi

by PKA



Series: Kintsukuroi Timestamps [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal Stop Being Such a Weird Kinky Bastard, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Pregnancy Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKA/pseuds/PKA
Summary: Hannibal wants to show the world that Will belongs to him.





	

  


The afternoon sun has mercy on them. The dogs are chasing each other, some of them splashing into the water, enjoying the day. He is ignored by them all and glad of it. He can't say he likes their company, but he tolerates it. For Will.

Hannibal is sitting on the little patch of sand outside their residence, hidden behind bushes and white mangroves, close to the jetty. He has just finished his little swim and now he's watching the glistening Atlantic; remembers the burn of the salt water in his lungs. He feels associated with it now: it came closer to killing him than anything else ever has and the wound in his abdomen reminds him of that fact every day.

With the sun not quite as bright as usual, the water is dark blue today, but ever changing. It reminds him of the other part of the equation, the man who pulled him into the floods in the first place.

Will is shy of the sea, keeping a safe distance, as if it would send a wave to swallow him down, claim him after all. But Hannibal is here, and he knows that Will is drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame, desire winning over sanity. He still fears that Hannibal will disappear, that everything will turn out to be a dream. It will take months and years for that to fade. It's another scar on his soul, but Hannibal knows he will survive it. With his support, that is. He tries to reassure Will as often as he can.

They have made love often since that first night. Often and everywhere. In the shower, in the tub, on the sofa, on the fur in front of the bed. Various tables, counters, walls, windows. Every corner evokes a memory of one of Will's orgasms, caused by Hannibal's hands or mouth or dick. His beautiful sounds are etched in Hannibal's mind, filling an entire room of his Memory Palace.

Only this place is still clouded in purity. The vast outdoors, unclaimed.

Hannibal closes his eyes and listens to the voices of the sea. He is happy, he realizes slowly. As happy as he's ever been.

A door opens and shuts, and it only improves his mood. He can smell Will coming closer - clean, fresh scent. He has just taken a shower.

Will stands quietly behind him, and Hannibal knows he's looking at the Verger brand. It's an ugly scar, but Will has a weird fascination with it, has discovered it time and time again with fingers and tongue.

»Won't you come inside?« Will asks and there is promise in the question. Hannibal's cock stirs to life, remembering that morning in all its vividness, Will waking him with exploring lips and tender touch.

He hasn't taken him into his mouth yet, but Hannibal can sense his curiosity. It's the most difficult step for an assumed straight man to take, but Will is becoming more and more used to Hannibal's body, better and better at pleasing him.

»I'd rather stay outside,« Hannibal answers.

Will steps closer, as close as he dares, laying his hands on Hannibal's bare shoulders, massaging them lightly.

»I want you,« Will whispers in his ear. The siren.

Hannibal puts his head back and they kiss - luscious and slow, tongues dancing.

Will moans into his mouth and Hannibal pulls him down. He lands messily in his lap; hits Hannibal with an elbow, but it doesn't matter.

Anxiety is rising in his body. Hannibal can taste the acidic flavor on his tongue. Will looks up at him with eyes matching the color of the sea behind him. His pupils are blown. Hannibal isn't sure if it's because of desire or fear. Another picture Hannibal wants to paint.

»You're safe,« Hannibal promises him. »I'm with you. Nothing will happen to you.«

The hands on Hannibal's biceps tighten for a second and Will takes a deep breath before they kiss again, urgent. Will presses close to him. Hannibal is accustomed to that by now - his need to feel and touch, for physical closeness. He wakes like this most mornings now - entangled with Will.

Hannibal lets his hands roam freely over Will. He's wearing a thin t shirt and very short shorts. They are tenting and Hannibal can't resist putting his hand over the growing erection.

Another soft little moan.

»Here?« Will asks.

»Yes.«

»But the neighbors - «

Hannibal presses a kiss against his temple. »Let them see.«

Will fumbles with his swim pants, pushes a hand inside. His fingers curl around Hannibal's length, stroke him to fullness with a confident grip. Will knows what he likes by now, fast learner that he is.

Pleasure shoots through Hannibal and he lies back in the sand, tilting his hips so Will can liberate him from the confinement of the shorts.

He puts a hand behind his head so he can see Will. He's playing with him, teasing his cock with just the tip of a finger, watching it rise in search of more.

His hands move up, through the hair on Hannibal's belly and chest to his shoulders, teasing a nipple on the way. Will leans in for another kiss.

»I want to take you in my mouth,« he says, low and sexy.

»You don't need to ask.«

Will kisses his way down south again, licking and nibbling at the nipple he neglected a moment earlier.

Deeper he goes, kissing his ribs, pressing his mouth against Dolarhyde's bullet wound.

Hannibal looks at the endless sky above, white clouds forming abstruse formations. One of them looks like a lamb.

Will's smooth face is buried in his pubic hair, freshly shaven skin resting against Hannibal's throbbing cock. He can feel him inhale.

»You smell like the sea,« he says before he pulls back Hannibal's foreskin and takes his cock between his lips.

His mouth is velvety and warm. Hannibal wants to thrust forward and bury himself in it, but he lets Will do as he pleases. His tongue presses flat against the head, licks at the slit, catching the first few drops of precome.

He takes him deeper, slowly. His throat works around his length and girth until he gags and chokes. He wants to pull back, but Hannibal keeps him there, one hand in his long, messy hair, as gently as he possibly can.

»Don't swallow. Make it sloppy.«

Hannibal feels saliva run down his erection to his balls. Will looks up at him with big, questioning eyes, his mouth stretched obscenely by the size of him. Perhaps Hannibal will paint him like this.

»That's it,« Hannibal says, petting Will's head, ruffling his curls. »Good boy.«

Will averts his eyes, a rosy blush on his cheeks. So lovely.

He puts a hand around the root of Hannibal's dick and starts sucking in earnest. With his other he starts massaging his balls, careful and respectful the way only a man can be with another man.

»Watch your teeth,« Hannibal warns and Will pulls his lips in front to cover them. »Very good, Will.«

Will is eager to please him and for his first one, the blowjob is quite nice. Heat prickles in Hannibal's belly, but it's more the sight of him like this than anything else.

Will's thumb moves lower, over Hannibal's rim and he can't help but moan at that. He wants to feel Will's mouth there too, but he has patience. Later.

Will pulls off, mouth red and chin shimmering with spittle. It's definitively lust clouding his eyes now.

»I want you to fuck me,« he says. 

These words come out more confident as well and Hannibal loves that he's so honest about stating what he desires.

»I'm going to.« Hannibal's voice sounds breathless, even to himself.

Will sits up, pulls his shirt over his head and drops it carelessly aside.

He lays himself on top of Hannibal, skin on skin. It feels heavenly. Hannibal can never get enough contact. His hands wander over the smooth skin on Will's back, catching on a few scars here and there. Their mouths meet in a frenzied kiss and Will shoves down his shorts, lets them dangle between their legs. 

Hannibal's hand moves lower, over the plushness of Will's ass. He squeezes. Then he pulls away.

»I'll have to get - «

Will holds onto his hand as he tries to get up. »No, you don't.«

He leads his hand back around, to his hole, already slick and open, waiting. Freshly shaven there as well. That is new. Hannibal can't resist putting two fingers inside. Will moves his hips to meet them. Always surprising, his complicated boy.

»What about condoms?« Hannibal asks, already knowing the answer.

Will laughs gently and Hannibal's heart feels flooded with light.

»We bled all over each other. I could taste it. I don't think…« His voice trails off and he looks away. 

Hannibal waits, eager to hear Will say it. He gives a little thrust, nudges Will's prostate with the tip of his fingers, prompting him to continue. 

»I want to feel you. I want you to…« Will blushes a deep red, worries his lip with his teeth. It's an entirely new world for him, has never crossed his mind before, not with his upbringing. Hannibal revels in it. His stumble through this new reality is beautiful.

»I want you to come inside of me.«

A sudden vision - Will, belly round with Hannibal's child, his scar stretching above it. In Hannibal's mind, his hand strokes over taut skin, feels a kick against his fingers. Will's smile, soft and warm and happy. The teacup coming back together.

A longing for this fills him, so he fills Will. Rolls him on his back and enters him. The irony of life - no desire to have it until it's something you can't get.

A moan - Will, so wonderfully loud when they make love, clawing at his shoulders, spreading his legs to make room for Hannibal, keen to take him.

Hannibal shields Will from the potential gaze of nosy neighbors with his body. Will is his, no one else allowed to look at him when he is like this. And he is Will's, completely at the mercy of his every whim.

It's passionate but not quick and mindless. Not the raw intensity of their first time. Hannibal enjoys feeling Will like this - pure, no barrier but skin separating them.

The air smells like Will, like sea and dog and arousal, and Hannibal can't imagine anything better. Will is striking against the sand and Hannibal wonders how he'd look against dirt, against grass, against bare stone. He wants him so, everywhere, never getting enough.

»Will,« he breathes, for it's the only sound that matters, encapsulating all his heart's desires. 

Will responds the way he usually does - not with words, but through action, clenching just a little around him, holding him in place, never letting him go.

Another picture. Will holding a newborn baby in his arms, feeding it milk from a bottle, soft rocking motions, humming a lullaby. It's a girl - brown hair and expressive, large eyes. She looks just like Mischa did, the only difference being that she has curls. Like Will.

It hurts. It hurts to yearn, to aspire, to want everything. To love so thoroughly. Five years and he is still not used to it, to all the feelings he has access to now, so meticulously hidden for so long. He finds himself in the middle of a dark wood, midway upon the journey of his life, and, indeed, the straight path is lost.

His vision blurs and he closes his eyes; rests his head on Will's collarbone, breathes him in.

Will embraces him with arms and legs, pulling him deeper. Insatiable. Hannibal brings one hand between them; strokes Will's cock, quick and messy. They aren't going to last long and they shouldn't - a boat could pass by any minute, their house the last one before the open sea.

He would do this to Will in the open streets if he had the choice, but it's not worth the risk of getting caught. So many things he wishes for and can't have: to put a public claim on Will - through sex or pregnancy or other means.

He thinks of Will's former family, of a wife and a son, of a family he will never be able to provide Will with.

_Molly and I want it to be the same._

He has to force himself to remember that this is the past: that he left them, that he chose Hannibal, that he belongs to him now. _To me. Only to me._ No ring on his finger anymore. Maybe again soon.

Hannibal bites into Will's neck and sucks a bruise into his skin; claims him the way he can right now, without Will having to consent. He says »Yes«, though, low and raspy, the answer to a question Hannibal is too afraid to ask. 

»Please,« Will whispers. »Hannibal, please.«

Will doesn't know what he's asking for, but Hannibal knows exactly what he wants. He quickens his thrusts and the movements of his hand and Will raises his back off the ground to meet him. Their moaning increases and, together with the slapping sounds, their symphony seems obscenely loud in the great wide open.

Will trembles violently when he comes with a scream, eyes closed, his lips draw into a bright smile, and he shoots all over Hannibal's hand. He clenches hard around him, gets incredibly tighter, muscles contracting, holding onto Hannibal, trapping him inside himself.

Hannibal knows that even if, through some wonder of nature, they _were_ able to reproduce, Will wouldn't let him. Will wouldn't let him and he can't blame him for that. He knows this, and yet he still instinctively buries himself inside of Will as deep as he can when he comes himself, sweat on his brow and tears in his eyes, face hidden against Will's throat. Colors and sounds explode around him, sensations overwhelming, and he is engulfed by the deep-rooted feeling of love he has for Will, so intense that he would be happy to die like this. 

It takes a long time to come down from the high. Will pets his hair, plays with the damp, long strands of it, continuing his embrace. They are still one and Hannibal keeps it that way for as long as possible, until his straining muscles and his aching knees remind him painfully of his age.

He pulls out slowly and Will makes a sound - not a whimper per se, but it sounds displeased at being empty again. If he could, Hannibal would take him again just for that and they would stay here till moonrise making love, showing no consideration for the neighbors. As it is now, he just sits back on his heels and looks at the work he's created.

Will lies spent before him, stomach sticky with milky fluid, entire body flushed, breathing heavily through parted lips. Hannibal's gaze rests between his open legs, on his abused, red entrance, smooth and welcoming. He can't suppress the urge to put a thumb back into Will's tight heat and is greeted with a soft whine.

»Push,« he says softly.

Will blinks and flushes a deeper shade of red, but does as he is told - Hannibal can see the muscles work in the lower part of his body, can feel him working around him. 

It doesn't take long for the first bit of cum to dribble out of Will - white semen mingling with white sand. It's a powerful image, the result of their breeding. If it weren't for the sand clinging to Will's sweaty body, he would turn him onto his stomach and -

»It feels weird,« Will states with a frown. 

Hannibal smiles at him, retracts his finger and lays next to Will, placing a kiss to the scar on his cheek.

»Do you want to use a condom again, next time?« Hannibal asks.

Will looks up into the sky, lost in thought.

»It was as if I could feel you come.«

Hannibal knows fully well that that isn't possible, that there aren't any corresponding nerves in the anus for that. Only a notion of Will's imagination, a common one in both sexes. He is intrigued anyway.

»What did it feel like?«

Will worries his lower lip with his teeth and still won't meet his eyes.

»I felt… a throbbing. And then… warmth. Like whiskey spreading in the stomach.«

»It felt good, then.«

Will finally looks at him. Hannibal can't interpret his eyes.

»It made me happy. Like I was part of something… special. Like we were linked even more closely than before.«

Hannibal opens his mouth to say something, but Will interrupts him. 

»Please don't. Don't talk about the depiction of male orgasm in art as a metaphor for something pretentious. Or about… I don't know, the awakening of my maternal urges. Just… it felt very nice, okay?«

Hannibal has a lot of things to say, a lot of explanations and witty remarks. It would also be a good opportunity to ask that question, to truly link them more closely than before. He swallows all of it down.

»We should grab a shower,« he says instead.

…

Even a week later, Hannibal still finds traces of sand all over the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta [ fragile-teacup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/). I think I almost succeeded in killing her with smut this time. ; )
> 
> Sadly, this is going to be the last timestamp I write for this universe on my own. But fear not, children! You can drop me a prompt for it on my [ tumblr ](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)! The only condition? It has to be a Japanese title, in the style of the ones I've used so far. So if you want a continuation, feel free to ask for it!


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